the light behind your eyes
dean/castiel – ~ 3.8k words – ao3
A simple hunt, a vampire nest. Nothing they haven’t done in the past fifteen years. They fought God himself and won, and this is what kills him? No, absolutely not. But when he feels the rebar pierce right through his back, he thinks this is it. He tries to reach for it; tries to feel where, what it hit, with his hand. There’s blood, he lets his fingers feel it, but it’s not a lot. Deep breath, he thinks. Didn’t hit the lungs. There’s no blood coming from my mouth, either. Organs should be fine, then. Nothing too life-threatening. Though if they didn’t get him to a hospital fast, possibly that too.
“Sammy,” he chokes on a sob. “Sam, you have to call 911.” He looks at his brother, the machete still in his right hand. Sam nods then; the clatter of the blade falling to the ground startling a little in the quiet of the barn. Frantic hands covered in blood trying to unlock the phone.
Sam takes a deep breath as the phone rings and he hears the dispatcher say “911, what is your emergency?”, but something catches his eye. Someone’s walking towards them slowly.
“Umm. My brother, he–” The phone slips from his hand and falls to the ground when Sam recognizes the figure walking over. “Cas?”
Dean thinks he’s hallucinating. Or dead. Yeah, he definitely must be dead already. This, this can’t be happening. There’s no way that’s Cas who’s coming straight for him. He saw him die. He saw it. He feels Cas pull him from the rebar, then the light brush of a finger against his temple, and when the pain subsides, he knows it’s true; it’s Cas. “You…”
He sees more than hears Sam picking up his phone and explaining - or lying – to the dispatcher in his peripherals. He sees him hang up, then reluctantly shove his phone back in his pocket.
“Hello, Dean.” There’s a soft smile, playing only around his mouth, the Angel’s face otherwise serious. Dean gasps, the familiarity of Cas’ voice makes his heart clench.
“I saw you die,” Dean grits out reluctantly. He doesn’t want it to sound as heartbroken as it does. He wants to be pissed off, angry. But really, all he feels is relief.
“Well,” Cas scratches the back of his neck, then lowers his gaze to look at his feet. “I was. Dead, I mean. When… After you defeated Chuck, Jack brought me back,” Cas straightens his posture, and looks back up at Dean, “and we have been work–”
“He brought you back?” Dean interrupts incredulous, his voice loud. He takes a step closer to Cas, staring at him. His lips, his eyes, the way his shoulders are still hunched a little. It’s all Cas. “He…”, Dean clears his throat, “Sorry, did you say he brought you back? And you didn’t think to, I dunno, let us know?” Dean feels his anger take over and he stabs a finger against Cas’ chest. “I watched you die, I watched you be taken by the Empty, and you didn’t even think to let me know that you were okay? After you–after you told me that–” Dean huffs and turns away, doesn’t want Cas to see the hurt in his eyes take over. Cas knows Dean’s anger. He doesn’t need to see his hurt.
Cas puts a hand on Dean’s shoulder, but Dean pulls away quickly, can’t stand that Cas’ hand brings up the familiarity of his touch. “Don’t you touch me,” he hisses and Castiel gnaws at his lower lip. His arm is still right where he wanted to hold Dean. Dean knows Cas meant it as a reassuring gesture, but it only felt belittling.
“Sam, could you wait in the car?” Dean says, doesn’t want Sam to see all this. Doesn’t want Sam to know all this. He knows the basics, and that’s enough. Dean pulls the car keys from his pockets, tosses them to Sam and he catches them easily. He leaves without another word.
“I helped Jack,” Cas states. Simple, as it is. A fact. Dean knows it’s more than that, though. It’s an argument. It’s an excuse; an explanation for why he couldn’t be down here, but Dean doesn’t want to listen to it.
He feels thrown back to that Godawful day. It’s still there, hovering over him, and it still takes his breath away. Cas had looked happy, and content, like it didn’t even matter that he had to leave him. Like it was okay to die. And it was, for Castiel it was okay to die that day because it was for Dean, he knows that much now. But for Dean, when Cas was gone, everything else didn’t matter anymore. His heart races, and there’s cold sweat pooling at his hairline. Breathe, he thinks. In through the nose, out through the mouth. He repeats it, five times, in through the nose, out through the mouth, for good measure. Finally, he looks up to where Cas is still standing still.
“Cas, you told me that you loved me. You told me your true happiness was telling me, no, was just saying that you loved me.” Dean shakes his head, thumb and trigger finger pulling at his upper lip.
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